


A Whole Lotta Grown-Ass American Women

by PepperF



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Ghostbusters AU, Past Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: "If we can document this scientifically, and prove that ghosts are real, people willhaveto believe. Lexa and Clarke wrote an actual, academic book on the subject, they know how to do this, and Raven can build whatever we need to capture a real ghost! Clarke gave up a position at Columbia to pursue this work!""Well, I didn't exactly give it up, I mean, after the Tenure Review Committee discovered what Raven and I were doing with my research budget—""No one's gonna call me 'ghost girl' ever again," said Octavia, glaring fiercely at Bellamy."We'll probably all get called 'ghost girl' if we go public," argued Lexa."Okay, yeah, I guess—but it'll be a term of respect!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> All the margaritas and nachos to Bethany for the beta! ;)

Lexa had never thought she'd lose Clarke. Maybe it was a failure of imagination: they'd been friends since middle school, long before they were more, and she actually couldn't picture her life without Clarke as an integral part. Lexa's relationships tended to end on a nuclear note, but Clarke somehow managed to stay friends with Niylah and even Finn, so when they'd finally called it quits, she'd hoped they might be able to salvage something from the wreckage—their friendship, hopefully, but at the very least a way to continue their work.

But Lexa's bad karma had prevailed. While Clarke hadn't actually left the country, like Costia, she had moved to a different city, changed her job, and given up all interest in the paranormal. And Lexa was never going to see her again.

Or so she'd thought.

She knocked loudly on the door, looking around at the empty lab. "Hello?"

"I swear to god, Jasper," said a gorgeous stranger, rummaging through her wallet as she emerged from behind a plastic curtain, "if this pizza isn't hot enough to burn the roof of my mouth, I'm gonna fuck...ing..." She pulled up short, staring at Lexa and visibly recalculating the situation. "You're not the pizza guy."

"No, I'm—"

"Lexa?"

Lexa's heart gave an uncomfortable little hiccup as someone else stepped out from behind the plastic curtain. She had to swallow before she could find her voice. "Clarke?"

"Pizza!"

Lexa jumped, not having noticed the man coming up behind her.

The brunette immediately switched focus. "It's about time." She strode past Lexa as if she wasn't there, apparently unhampered by a brace around her right leg, and grabbed the pizza box from the skinny young man with a sheepish grin. She flung open the lid to examine the contents. "What the hell is this, fucking none pizza with left beef?"

"Toppings may shift during transit," said the delivery guy, defensively.

"Dammit, Jasper! Every single time..."

Lexa tuned out the quarrel, turning her attention back to Clarke. "What are you doing here?"

Clarke gave her a quick once-over. "Raven and I are working on a project," she said.

Lexa looked around ( _was that a P.K.E. meter?_ ). "So I see. I thought you'd given up on the paranormal." It came out sounding accusatory—which, well, she _felt_ accusatory. After Jake's death, and with pressure from her mother to get into ”real” academia, Clarke had retreated back and away from her studies with Lexa, shutting the door on everything about that world, all the things that had fascinated them both since they were children. Their relationship had been going through a rocky patch at the time, and Clarke's refusal to engage in the one thing that had drawn them together in the first place had been the final blow.

Clarke's eyes dropped away. "I did. It was... it was what I needed to do at the time. But it's still part of who I am," she said, quietly. Her gaze came back up, and it was as unflinching as Lexa remembered. "I never stopped believing."

There was an awkward silence, before Clarke spoke again.

"Anyway, what are _you_ doing here?"

"I invited her." The other woman had finished her argument, and strolled over to a bench, precariously balancing a box as she bit into a slice of pizza. "Hi. Your book is a disaster."

Taken aback, Lexa opened her mouth to defend it—she and Clarke had worked hard, and she was proud of the result, despite the mockery they'd received from peers and colleagues—but was forestalled.

"I mean, it's worth something as a jumping-off point, I guess. But it's completely off-base, and your conclusions are terrible and wrong."

Clarke joined in, scoffing. "Oh my god, the chapter on manifestations? What were we thinking?"

"What were you _drinking_ , you mean?"

"If this was why you brought me here," began Lexa, stiffly.

Raven stuck out her hand, a broad grin on her face. "Raven Reyes. I'm a huge fan," she said, apparently completely sincere. "Wanna help us catch a ghost?"

\---

Octavia grabbed Raven with one hand, and the cart full of gear with the other. "Holy mother of _fuck_!" she laughed, exhausted and exhilarated. "That was awesome!"

"We need to get a sample of that ectoplasm back to the lab," said Raven, brain already working on the next steps. "And I need to work on aligning the positron collider and the cyclotron, so the protons are accelerated straight into the particle stream. More bang for our buck," she translated, seeing Octavia's expression.

"Awesome," declared Octavia. "Let's go back to the lab and work out how to blow shit up."

"How to blow shit up more efficiently," corrected Raven, grinning broadly.

" _I love you._ "

"Yeah, I think I've got all the ectoplasm you'll need," said Clarke. "Like, ever." She was holding her arms out to her sides, as if unwilling to touch any part of herself to any other part. Lexa was standing near her, looking like she wanted to help, but also like she wished she was wearing a hazmat suit. Clarke gave a full-body shudder. "Oh god, oh god, it's _oozing_."

"Come on," said Octavia, tugging Raven and the cart. "Our chariot awaits."

Outside the abandoned theater, Bellamy was leaning against his truck, playing with his phone. "You gonna tell me what's going on now, O?" He looked up, took one glance at Clarke, and shook his head, eyes wide. "Oh hell no. No way."

"Come on, Bell, you can't make her walk!"

"She can take the bus," said Bellamy, unrelenting. 

"No one's gonna let her on her covered in that crap!"

Bellamy glared at his sister.

"It's okay, there's always the subway," interrupted Clarke. She gave a pathetic shiver. 

Bellamy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Don't you get it? This isn't just disgusting, funky-smelling goo! This is physical confirmation of everything I've believed since I was fourteen," said Octavia, passionately. "Everyone thought I was crazy when I said I saw a ghost—you know it's true," she said, before he could protest. "But this is _proof_ , Bell. We got it on camera, we got samples, we interacted with it—we kicked its goddamn _ass_! If we can document this scientifically, and prove that ghosts are real, people will _have_ to believe. Lexa and Clarke wrote an actual, academic book on the subject, they know how to do this, and Raven can build whatever we need to capture a real ghost! Clarke gave up a position at Columbia to pursue this work!"

"Well, I didn't exactly give it up, I mean, after the Tenure Review Committee discovered what Raven and I were doing with my research budget—"

"No one's gonna call me 'ghost girl' ever again," said Octavia, glaring fiercely at Bellamy.

"We'll probably all get called 'ghost girl' if we go public," argued Lexa. 

"Okay, yeah, I guess—but it'll be a term of respect!"

Lexa hmmed neutrally. 

"If you love me, you'll help us," said Octavia. Bellamy's jaw clenched visibly. "And if you turn your back on me now, I'll know that you think I'm crazy, just like everyone else always did." Bellamy stayed silent, and she couldn't help give a tiny whine, and an undignified foot-stamp. "Bell, it was so cool! We saw a _ghost_!"

Bellamy looked away and sighed in defeat. "Get in before I change my mind," he growled. Octavia sprang towards the door. "And put some towels down, I don't want your _proof_ all over my fucking seats!"

\---

Clarke could feel every hair on her body standing on end. Some distant, academic part of her mind—a part that wasn't currently freaking out about trying to avert the _fucking apocalypse_ —wondered whether it was a symptom of fear, a side-effect of the psychokinetic energy that was thick in the air, or an indication that Raven's gun was doing horrible things to every cell of her body.

She ignored it. There were more immediate problems.

"Okay Cage, let Bellamy go," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "Despite his many annoying qualities, he's one of us, and we're going to be pissed if he gets hurt."

Bellamy's face pinched, a mannerism that was pure Cage Wallace. "Oh, I don't think so," he said. "I've got your attention right now, haven't I?"

From the corners of her eyes, she could see Octavia, Lexa, and Raven moving slowly and carefully. She heard Raven's low hiss, barely even words: _Whatever you do, don't cross the streams_.

"Yeah, Cage, I'm taking you seriously right now," she said, trying to keep his focus on herself. "I guess that's always been a problem for you. You've always been a bit of a joke, the weird guy that no one wants to talk to at parties. God, it was always such a relief to get away from you! I remember how mom and I used to laugh—"

She was prepared for the furious blast of energy that shot from his hand, and dived to one side just in time. 

"Clarke, keep going, we need a few more minutes," snapped Lexa. She and Raven were working around to the right with the contraption that Raven was still in the process of jury-rigging. Clarke could only pray that it would work. "But don't get yourself killed."

"Sure, no problem. Taunt the ghost, don't die. How hard could it be?" Clarke staggered upright, away from the vortex at the centre of the ballroom, and caught Octavia's eye. The other woman nodded, and they stepped backwards, moving apart but in the other direction from Lexa and Raven, keeping Bellamy/Cage busy.

"Is that the best you can do?" called Octavia. "Ooh, you're such a scary ghost! Pretty pathetic if you ask m—" 

Cage raised Bellamy's hands, pointing blasts of energy at the chandeliers, and one after another they came crashing down from above, sending splintering crystal in all directions. Octavia ran and dodged and skidded across the floor, swearing as she crashed into Clarke.

"Was that scary enough for you?" demanded Cage. "Or maybe that didn't hit you where it hurts. How about this?"

Something horrible was happening to Bellamy's body. He dropped to the floor from where he'd been floating, onto all fours, writhing and snarling—and _growing_.

"Clarke, what's he doing to my brother?" asked Octavia and Clarke realised that she'd never actually heard her sound frightened before.

"Raven?" called Clarke. 

"Nearly there!"

"Work faster!"

Bellamy hunched, arms stretching and bones popping horribly as he changed. His skin began to turn a weird, leathery gray, not like any living creature. Pointy ears began to rise up the sides of his face, and his eyes bulged, growing round, glowing with unholy red light. He looked kind of like a nightmare version of Stitch, thought Clarke, or maybe one of the goblins from _Labyrinth_.

"Get out of my brother, you _asshole_!"

Clarke pulled Octavia back just in time to avoid the huge teeth that snapped at her outstretched hand. They fell back in a heap, staring in horror as the creature that had been Bellamy advanced towards them, growling.

"Clarke! _Gun_!" called Lexa.

"I can't shoot Bellamy!" she called back, unholstering the proton gun but keeping it pointed away from Evil Stitch.

"Don't hit him directly. Just... nudge him. It won't kill him," said Raven. "We just need to drive Cage away from the source of his power, and towards the trap."

"We have a trap?"

"We do now."

"Clarke?" Octavia, who was looking between the creature and the jury-rigged equipment. "That's my _brother_."

"I know." Clarke risked a glance back. Raven was wearing her determined face. "It'll work. You can trust Raven."

Octavia gave her a long, searching look, and then nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Okay. But give me the gun."

"Are you sure?" asked Clarke, holding it out, grip first.

"If you hurt him, I'd have to kill you, and I wanna keep my job, so." She shrugged, and took the gun. "Besides, I'm the best shot."

"True," conceded Clarke, as they took refuge behind a piano. "Try not to hit his ass."

Octavia nodded approvingly. "I'm less likely to hurt him if I avoid body shots."

"Well, I was actually thinking that your brother has a really great ass and I'd like to preserve it," said Clarke, and grinned at Octavia's shocked look. "For posterity?"

"Oh my god, shut up, and _go left_!"

\---

"Sorry I'm late," said Octavia, as she threw her coat and purse down and grabbed the pitcher of margaritas, pouring herself a generous glass. "The bike wouldn't start, and then Bell started being a dick about riding without a helmet—"

"You know he's right about that?"

Octavia ignored Clarke. "So anyway, here I am." She dropped into a seat, and grinned around at the gathered Ghostbusters, before tilting her chair back at a dangerous angle so she could see further into the bar. "Bitches here just stopped the apocalypse, we could do with another round!" she yelled.

" _An_ apocalypse," corrected Lexa, as Octavia's chair thumped back to the ground. "Not _the_." The other three groaned. "I'm just saying," she said, face demure but eyes twinkling.

"Let me recover from this one first," sighed Clarke, leaning her head on her folded arms. "Or at least do laundry. I swear ghosts are actually targeting me specifically with that ectoplasm crap."

"So the novelty's worn off," noted Raven, smirking.

"The novelty never wore _on_. It's cold, and it smells funky, and do you know how hard it is to get it out of your hair? It's disgusting! And it stains!"

"Have you tried that shampoo you used to use, when the chlorine in the pool turned your hair green?" asked Lexa. 

"Hmm, that’s a thought. I'll give it a try."

"I should make a supercut of all the footage we've got of you getting slimed," mused Octavia. "I bet we could make a fortune on the fetish market."

"Don't you fucking dare. Ooh, more alcohol!"

An enormous pitcher had arrived, followed by an attractive man, his muscular arms covered in tattoos. "Here you go, ladies," he said, setting out fresh glasses. "We saw the news, so this is on the house." He caught Octavia's appreciative once-over, and gave her a wink. As he walked away, she leaned her chair back again to watch.

"Lincoln, twenty-eight, currently single. Interests include painting and rock climbing," said Clarke, as she refreshed everyone's glasses.

Octavia stared at her. "Are you psychic? Should we get Raven to test you?"

Clarke shook her head. "We go to the same yoga class."

"Oh. And you're not...?"

"No, no, we're just friendly. You should definitely go for it, he's a real sweetheart."

"And verrrrry bangable," grinned Octavia.

"I have something to say, everyone shut up and listen!" yelled Raven, slapping the table loudly. She stood, and held up her glass, pausing for a second while she gathered her thoughts. "Unlike you losers, I was really popular in high school," she began.

"Boo!" 

"Shut it, Octavia. I got picked first for everything—hockey, science club, three different prom invites—I was hot stuff. And then in college, I was just as awesome. And then, just after college, some shit happened in my life. You all know about Finn, and then the accident. I was in kind of a weird place after that. College was done, and everyone had drifted away, and suddenly I was alone. Sure, I was still hot stuff, and still a fucking genius, and people were lucky to know me, but somehow that didn't seem to be working for me. I don't know, but for whatever reason, it was hard for a while there. And then I met Clarke." She held up her glass, and Clarke toasted her back. "And Clarke introduced me to Lexa, and Octavia needed no introduction, she just let herself in because she's a badass—"

"Hear, hear!"

"—and a loudmouth. And now here I am, friends with three of the best, brightest, scariest women I've ever known. And we just saved the world. I _fucking_ love you guys." She leaned forward, holding out her glass. "To the Ghostbusters!"

"The Ghostbusters!"

They clashed glasses.

"Aah!"

"Oh shit, sorry Clarke!"

"Here, take some napkins."

"Don't cut yourself."

Clarke held up her hands as Raven dabbed at the wet splash across the front of her dress, and Lexa tried to corral the broken glass and margarita into a puddle on the table, while Octavia went to fetch help. 

"It's fine," she sighed. "I'm kind of getting used to it."

\---

END


End file.
